Bibbidy-Bobbidy-Boo
by FreakingOutAlways
Summary: Clint was under Loki's mind control during the Chitauri invasion. Loki did some things that have resulted in Clint freaking out Toni's bathroom, with a little white stick in one hand and a feeling of dread in her stomach. Or, that could be the morning sickness. Female Clint and Female Tony. May contain triggers
_Clint was under Loki's mind control during the Chitauri invasion. Loki did some things that have resulted in Clint in Toni's bathroom, with a little white stick in one hand and a feeling of dread in her stomach. Or, that could be the morning sickness_

 _Alternatively; Clint is raped. Toni knows something about that. Clint is pregnant. Turns out, Toni knows something about that too._

 **A/N: In the aftermath of Civil War and Avengers: Age of Ultron, I am publishing this fanfic, which is pretending that Tony and Clint are female, that Loki is more than a misunderstood sweetheart who needs a hug and that the marvel universe isn't going to hell. This is the only perceived way that I can experience happiness. I am sure some of you can sympathise with this view. Reviews are always welcome, but I've kind of given up on begging for them. And, this is really long. Try not to get bored. Also, I can promise that you will get the story title by the end. Promise.**

Clint has never done this before. Her so-called 'wild teenage years' consisted more of learning to shoot (to kill) than what she imagines was Toni's entire life until those fatal few months in Afghanistan; spring break on repeat, drugs drink and sex, careless one night stands which left the matter of birth control a mystery. Clint, on the other hand had only ever had sex with people she knew or trusted, or rather knew and trusted that if they did anything she didn't like she would be fully of capable of taking them out, possibly permanently.

But now she is here, on the cleanest bathroom floor she has ever seen, (SHIELD is way too high profile to hire cleaning staff) of a newly minted Avengers tower with a little white stick in one hand and a mental breakdown pending, but nevertheless still staring at the little pink plus sign that has rendered an entire life of danger, strife and espionage completely meaningless because she is _absolutely fucked_. Her already white knuckled grip on the toilet seat rim tightens impossibly as she leans over the basin and retches.

Clint was human. Which may have been thought to be pretty damn obvious but Clint roomed with a demigod, a mad scientist turned green rage monster and a genetically engineered assassin. So yeah, human status was a bit of a rarity these days. Clint didn't even have heightened senses from chemical burns caused by an unfortunate road accident going for her. She is squishy and vulnerable and now she is pregnant. Fucking fabulous. Sure, this test could be wrong but she wasn't an idiot. When one felt nauseous three months after a certain trickster bastard launched an alien invasion via mind control (fucking bastard, damn the son of a bitch to hell for what he did, to Clint, to earth, to Phil, oh god, Phil) you instantly begin to suspect the worse. That leaves her here. In her first trimester of pregnancy, a self-made spy turned hero, dry heaving in Toni Stark's expensive custom made bathroom. This train of thought only makes her want to puke harder.

After her stomach is done turning itself out, Clint crawls into the smallest corner she can find in the massive expanse that is the trademark feature of all things Stark and brings her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller still.

'Fucking _shit'_ she whispers in the small space between her legs and her stomach, where cells have already divided to create a small organism that is her baby. She's angry with herself, even before she feels hot tears run down her cheeks for giving in to this small weakness, even in the privacy of her new home. Clint is crying. Like a girl. Shit. That's . . . disappointing for some reason, although she has more reason than most. She hasn't cried for years. Not until Phil . . .

Now she just can't stop. Stupid hormones. What the fuck was she going to do? Clint wasn't the mothering type, she was a spy, an assassin, a trained killer. How could the same hands that pulled dozens of triggers, spilt enough blood to paint the walls of the Avengers tower, notched hundreds of arrows over the years and let them fly, handle a baby with as much care? Her eyes widened as a new thought struck her- what about her teammates? This child was half Loki after all. Would they even allow it to live? Natasha was her best friend, but she could be more cold and calculating than she could sympathetic. Clint felt that she was right to assume the worst. Could she even let them kill her baby? She wasn't even sure she could allow that any more. She was approximately 12 weeks along, even though her baby bump was barely visible. Her baby was already about three inches long, its face almost fully formed. Clint's victims were never innocent people, they deserved what happened to them and Clint never lost a night's sleep over doing her job. Could she allow her own flesh and blood to be her first?

Clint let out a strangled moan, sounding like a dying kitten and thrust one hand roughly through her shorn sandy hair, her fingers sticking in the tangles and ripping them harshly. She was _so_ screwed.

'Clint?'

Her head shot up so sharply that it cracked back against the azure tiles behind her. Stifling a gasp at the unexpected pain she blinked up blearily at the slight form of Toni Stark who was wearing a pair of hilarious fluffy 'hulk smash' socks, grey leggings and a worn black vest shirt, the blue glow from the arc reactor, thrumming soothingly in her chest cavity easily permeating the thin fabric. Clint, in her mad panic to pee on the god damned stick had forgotten to _lock the door._

 _'Idiot'_

'Sorry to come barging on in like this but I was only on my way to get coffee because you know how much I like coffee, but I thought I heard a weird noise and considering that we're a team now, I thought Cap may get a little bit pissy with me if I let our cherished archer die on her bathroom floor. So I came to check, but as it turns out, I don't even get to break down the door because you've left it open which is a disappointment because I like smashing things almost as much as the Hulk does- it's on par with coffee!'

Her fluffy green and purple feet pad a little closer and Clint attempts to become one with the wall, plastering herself to the cold tiles.

'Say Clint? Are you actually okay? Because you haven't told me to shut up yet and someone not telling me to shut up is usually a clear indication that something is wron-'

Toni breaks off, her sharp brown eyes finding the pregnancy kit box Clint had discarded after emptying its contents on the floor. She had been enough of an idiot and in enough of a hurry that she hadn't disposed of the evidence.

'Oh' Toni says abruptly, stepping a back a pace and taking in Clit's defensive posture, her clenched fists and, Clint is sure (because Toni is damn sherlockian when it comes to an eye for the details) the tear tracks on her cheeks.

'Oh shit. Clint hon, I-'

Clint remained silent. Her capacity for speech had deserted her, even if she had wanted to snark or snap, it was beyond her now. Toni padded across the room towards her. Lithe and catlike in her movements, Clint didn't even register her movements until the woman was crouched in front of her, balanced on the balls of her toes. She reached towards Clint slowly, offering a small smile of reassurance as she gently disentangles the hand twisted painfully in Clint's hair with her right hand and with her left, deftly pries the fist holding the pregnancy test loose and holds it gingerly between her forefinger and thumb for inspection. Clint has to snort a laugh at that because that is so _Toni._ This whole bloody mess and Toni is still gingerly germ conscious because Clint has _peed_ on that thing. As Toni examines the little pink plus sign she twists her upper body and curls up on the floor next to Clint.

Clint can see Toni make the necessary calculations, how far along she was, dialling the months back, coming to the awful conclusion. Even thinking about it made her bring her hands back up to her scalp, but Toni caught her wrists gently, brings them back down, tangling their fingers loosely together. Clint looked at her, shocked. Toni was not the touchy-feely type, a loveless childhood of alternating emotional deprivation and abuse making certain that the woman flinches from friendly contact and downright ducks for cover whenever Thor goes on one of his hugging sprees. But now, Toni uses the hand she used to catch Clint's wrist to hesitantly steer Clint's head to her shoulder, where, instinctively, Clint tries to nuzzle deeper. Toni smells of deodorant and grease and peach blossom laundry detergent and it's more comforting than Clint could even have believed that Toni Stark, all sharp edges and broken glass could ever be.

'Shit Clint' Toni murmurs, a hand moving slowly through Clint's hair. 'You're going to be okay you know. It's going to be fine'

'How?' Clint's embarrassed to find that her voice breaks on that word. 'I'm fucking pregnant Toni. Thor's fucking brother killed Phil, invaded earth, mind-whammied me and got me fucking pregnant. I don't know what to do or how to be okay so _how_ exactly, can everything ever be _fine_ ever again?'

Tony doesn't reply to this, probably because she knows it's true, but she also doesn't let up with the hair stroking and lets Clint cling as hard as she wants to, making a litany of soothing noises as Clint begins to sob. That only makes Clint cry harder because Toni Stark is _not this nice_. She is bold and sexy and sarcastic and cutting, ruthless and ambitious and generous but never just affectionate or sympathetic except maybe with Bruce. But Clint is no science bro, can barely comprehend the physics and mathematics they quip at each other casually across the common areas but this is even harder to understand. But, she admits to herself, it is nice to know she's not alone in this. That she'll have Toni in her corner if no-one else.

'Clint?'

Clint freezes. So does Toni because she can feel muscles tense from where Toni has suddenly gone rigid. Because that voice was not Toni's. It's much deeper and male and incredulous, angry even. Too late, Clint realises that the stupid empty box is still on the floor, neither one of them having moved it before or after Clint's crying jag. And Steve, holding a steaming bowl of soup has seen it, and is staring at Clint with an expression of horror on his face, evidently realising the truth.

'Hey Cap. Is that soup for Barton? That good because she could really use it. If you could just pop it on one of the many flat surfaces I had installed here and then be going on your way, I think we would all appreciate it'

Toni's ramblings have an edge of steel to them this time. Her hold on Clint hasn't tightened but it feels much firmer, impenetrable. Clint doesn't look up. She can see her reflection in the mirrored walls and knows she looks like hell, dishevelled, underfed and pathetic. She can see the captain's reflection in the glass as well and knows that he is definitely angry now. With Toni.

'Enough Toni.' The Captain's eyes are cold. 'How long have you known about this?'

'About as long as she has, but I fail to see how it is any of your business.' If the Captain radiates cold then Toni generates ice, her voice is scathing and the Captain actually flushes in what appears to be embarrassment. Still, he continues regardless, this time addressing Clint.

'Clint. You should have reported this to the team immediately. It's a matter that concerns all of us. If the child is Loki's then it could be a potential threat and we should consult SHIELD immediately to determine what should be done'

'Child?'

A new voice joins the conversation. Natasha's. Fabulous. Where's the confetti, it's a bloody parade in here. Whatever happened to the concept of _private_ quarters?

Natasha pads into the room stealthily, takes in the situation with several quick glances and quickly resolves her facial expression to one of impassivity. She levels it in Clint's direction who disentangles herself from Toni who lets her go and stands, albeit shakily. All she wants now, is to be out of this damned bathroom. She'll probably never pee in here again, this whole experience in entirely traumatising.

'Chill Cap. Like Toni said, I only found out just now and I don't even know if I'm going to keep the baby or whether regular abortions will even work.' Clint has to swallow a lump in her throat here because that prospect makes her want to vomit again.

'I just don't see what going to SHIELD is going to accomplish. Likely they'll throw me into a black van and perform experiments to see what can actually kill Frost Giant DNA. I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you'

Her voice sounds steady and Clint chances a glance at Natasha. She can read the quirk in her eyebrow better than anyone else. It says, 'I'm proud of you' and 'I'm here for you' and everything else that Clint needed to hear and suddenly, the load on her shoulders in halved. Steve meanwhile looks horrified.

'Abortion? You mean . . . killing the baby? You can do that now? And that's _legal?'_

He looks as if he would like to be sick, but a quick glance towards the toilet where Clint had been hurling up her lunch earlier that afternoon seems to resolve him on that front. He takes a step towards her, and probably doesn't mean to seem so menacing, but he's just so big, and he could snap her neck with one hand and in that instant he reminds her so much of Loki that she can feel her knees buckle even before he cries out that she-

'-can't do that! It's wrong, you can't kill your baby just because-'

'It's not for _you_ to decide!'

It seems to burst out of Toni apparently before her genius brain can register it, forgoing the necessary neural pathways and leaping straight from her tongue. When all heads whipped round to look at her, she looked as if she were about to slap her hands over her face, a parody of a child telling one unwelcome truth too many. Before long though, her resolve seems to harden and she continues, her voice sharp and pitched higher than her usual sultry rasp.

'If Clint wants to keep her baby, - because it is hers, let's just forget about the sperm donor shall we- then she can. If she doesn't want to live with a potentially terrible reminder of what she's gone through then who are you to deny her that?'

That sparks of a discussion that frankly does not go well. Steve is spluttering and red faced and Natasha is hissing at him alternating between Russian and English, apparently concurring with Toni. The ensuing shouting match when Steve understands some of those insults about him being a 'bigoted asshole' concerns ethical debates that God probably don't know the answers to. The raised voices ultimately attract Banner and Thor, who doesn't really know what he should do first, restrain Natasha, who seems to be attempting to claw Steve's eyes out of their sockets, or congratulate Clint on being the 'bearer of my niece or nephew'. Thor then insists cheerfully that 'We must celebrate this joyous occasion'. Pop tarts are sure to be involved.

When Natasha yells that an 'abortion may be the only sensible option' Clint decides that enough is enough, she is through with this crap-fest. She barrels past the parade in her bathroom, knocking shoulders roughly with Natasha, who seems to register that she has said the wrong thing. Clint has sprinted through her suite and into the elevator before she even registers where she wants to hide, not bothering to give instructions to JARVIS but trusting that Toni's AI will take her somewhere safe and secluded.

Toni is so angry that there is a blood red haze to her vision that only exacerbates her fury. She wonders if it's similar to what Bruce experiences when her hulks-out, and makes a note to ask him. Toni gets that Steve is not of this time, understands that there has to be so much that has changed since the 1940s that the idea of a woman killing her baby is a travesty to him but come on! No-one can be so clueless surely. No, wait. This was the guy who volunteered to be the guinea-pig of a man who had a history of creating monsters, and her own drunken father, the man who allowed needles of noxious chemicals of unknown origins to be plunged into his body which had more chance of causing his heart to explode than making him into the super soldier he is today. Yeah, take back anything nice Toni has ever said about the man (which in all fairness, is not all that hard to do. Compliments do not come easy to Toni) Steve is a brain-dead moron.

For that matter, so is Natasha. Toni's eyes narrowed with the comment that an abortion is the only solution. Toni has Natasha's file, knows what the Red Room did to ensure that their agents in training would never be compromised by someone they would place above the mission. It makes Toni sick to think of such a procedure being performed on someone she thinks of as a friend, makes her understand that Natasha could not possibly know the pain of being pressured into making a decision that would torture her for the rest of her life. Toni did, though. She couldn't remain objective with that kind of knowledge, her protective instincts were going haywire and it was driving her more batty than Dummy with a fire extinguisher.

And, what the fuck Thor? Did he think that Barton up and _volunteered_ to be Loki's mini frost giant incubator? Congratulations? Throw a party? Hey, the woman was raped, let's all throw a fucking baby shower, that won't terrify and confuse her all the more or anything.

It was only when the team freezes mid cat fight that Toni realises that she said all of that shit out loud. Oops. And also- _Shit_

Well, they can just deal with it. They're the ones in the wrong here and they should fucking know that. Toni rolls her eyes at her team-mates and huffs impatiently at the morons, who are all doing remarkably good impressions of chastised children. Well, everyone but Brucie. Science bros are exempts from team stupidity, and it's clear that he doesn't really know what's going on anyway. He's missing his classes and is all fuzzy eyed, the way you are when you get woken up by a re-enactment of Zelda versus Buffy death match going on in your neighbouring suite.

'Okay people, listen up because I am going to say this only once. I will go talk to Clint. The rest of you will resume your previous activities. When she wants to talk to you I am sure she will .Until then, leave her alone. I will take care of it.'

She levels a glare at Steve and Thor who look instantly as if they are about to protest, cutting them off before the words are even fully formed.

'Mutineers will be banished from the tower and made effectively homeless. That means no more tower, pop tarts, reinforced punching bags or Stark tech. Do not doubt my power, mundies. You have been warned'

On a hunch, Toni goes down to the lab, because Clint loves the bots almost as much as Toni does. Clint actually indulges Dummy's fascination with the fire extinguisher, she actually drinks those disgusting smoothie concoctions that Dummy ritually poisons with spinach and jalapenos and plays fetch with You.

Sure enough, upon entering her lair (sorry, Lab) Clint is perched on the futon, propped with pillows, absentmindedly stroking You while Dummy bleeps frantically in worry, wheeling back and across the lab in apparent panic as Clint fails to accept one of his trademark smoothie surprises.

'Down, boy' Toni chuckles, dodging as Dummy skitters in front of her and making her way towards the kettle, checking two mugs for mould before putting a tea bag in each.

'Clint is fine. She just needs a bit of girl time. Get to your charging stations, You, Dummy. Go on shoo' She makes a 'get' gesture with one of the mugs, cursing as the tea bag goes flying. In an attempt to be helpful, Dummy attempts to retrieve it for her, and instead rips the bag to shreds scattering peppermint dregs across the workshop floor.

'Dummy. Please stop trying to be helpful. You are not good at it. But-'she adds hastily as Dummy wilts 'I do appreciate it. Now please leave'

Dummy complies, and Toni is pleased to see that Clint is shaking with suppressed laughter, her trademark grin already adding colour to her too-pale skin. Toni busies herself with adding the boiling water to the tea bags and brings them across to the futon, pushing one into Clint's limp hands.

'What's this?' Clint looks at the pale green tea and makes a face.

'Peppermint. Caffeine free. I've got some saltines too, if you're still hungry? That soup Cap made is no longer an option I'm afraid' Tony, jabs at her teabag with a spoon, hoping it's not a biological contaminant, but figures that as long as it helps her tea to brew quicker she doesn't care.

'Nah. I'm okay' Clint takes a sip, looks pleasantly surprised and takes another sip more. Toni smirks behind the rim of her own mug. She had the same reaction when she first tried the tea, expecting a bitter, diluted concoction and instead getting a soothing minty drink that soothed and rejuvenated when she fancied rest rather than another hyped up and sleepless night.

'Have you ever been pregnant before, Toni?' Clint and Toni both jump in the resulting smash of shattered ceramics as Toni's mug tips out of suddenly numb hands, hot tea cascading over her lap and the comforter between herself and Clint. Toni swears in mingled shock and anger, half choking on a scalding gulp of tea that she had just tried to swallow and simultaneously leaping up to try and scrub as much of the burning liquid off of her crotch as possible, whilst Clint looks horror-struck and putting her own mug to the side hurriedly, as if afraid Toni would go for that one next.

'Sorry, I just, you just seemed way too empathetic for someone who's never gone through this before, and I know I was a little bit catatonic for a minute there, but you seemed to know exactly what to do to get me to snap out of it and you yelled at Cap and Natasha and everyone so I. . . I was just wondering. Sorry. About the tea I mean. Hot tea has to burn like a bitch'

Toni just stares at her, and Clint is worried for a minute. But Toni's eyes are aware, not vacant, so she's with Clint in the present, not stuck in the past.

'Was it Afghanistan?'

To Clint's surprise, Toni laughs out loud at that.

'They didn't have to rape me in Afghanistan, Clint. Everyone thinks they did, that it's the reason I don't talk about it. But I just don't talk about it because it sucks, not because of anything those bastards did or didn't do.' Tony plucks at her leggings absentmindedly and avoids eye contact, skittish eyes flicking from Clint's face to the bots at their charging station, to the ceiling, to the doors and then back to Clint's face again.

They had a fucking car battery hooked up to my chest, Clint, they didn't need any other demonstrations of exactly how much I was at their mercy. So no, it wasn't Afghanistan'

'But it _has_ happened, right?'

Clint sits, cross legged and sombre, taking a hold of the mug again, cradling close to her chest again, and cherishing the warmth it creates. She looks anxious, yet eager to know more and Toni realises that in this bizarre world she has created for herself, Clint is looking up to her. To Toni. Clint is looking to Toni for advice and for comfort, as if Toni is qualified to offer her advice because there is literally no-one else.

Toni remembers that. How desperately she had sought the advice of the only person she could trust, because she was just a kid, young and terrified out of her wits that Howard was: A) going to kill her, B) going to disown her and C) going to kill her kid. In the end, Howard Stark hadn't had to do a damn thing. Obadiah took care of all of that for him. She purses her lips and begins to speak.

'Yeah, Clint. It happened, I got knocked up a couple of times. Which time do you want to hear about precisely? The time my godfather did it, or the time that I honest to God cannot remember?'

To her credit, Clint does not flinch, does not stammer apologies or excuse herself awkwardly. She just sits back and lets Toni talk, probably knowing that if she interrupts now, Toni is never going to get through this.

'First time it happened I was 15'

Clint lets out a startles explanation of 'Jesus' at that, but quiets down when Toni gives her a pointed look.

'I wasn't raped, but it could be argued that I wasn't in my right mind either. I was an idiot, a messed up airhead with daddy issues and Obadiah took advantage of that. He and I were celebrating my entry into MIT, and he poured me a few drinks. It gets a little fuzzy after that. My tolerance wasn't what it is today. A couple of weeks later and I was having a panic attack in my bathroom because the twenty pregnancy tests I took were telling me that I, the representative of adolescent screw-ups was going to be a mother.'

Toni smirked bitterly, picking up the ruined remains of her mug and placing them in the sink, and pouring herself a new mug of tea.

'I did what I thought I had to. I told my godfather, Obadiah because I was scared and I trusted him. He said he would take care of it, like he took care of all of my mistakes. I got taken to a very specific clinic, put in one of those disgusting hospital gowns and got given some pills to swallow. Few hours later, I was no longer up the duff, Obadiah's mess was all cleaned up. I think he thought that Howard would have killed him along with me if he ever found out. Whenever he was sober he always seemed suspicious of Obie. Dickhead needn't have worried. A few weeks later the car accident happened. I often wondered if Obie got him before Dad could get his scumbag best friend.'

'That was the first time?' Clint sounded appalled, but not pitying, which was good because Toni would have bolted because- _eurgh_. Feelings.

'Yeah. The next time I'm pretty sure wasn't consensual because I remember bruises that weren't caused by anything in the workshop and I woke up with a hangover when I don't remember drinking that night. I have a damn good memory so. . .'

Toni shrugs, takes a sip of tea and tries to ignore how much her hands are shaking.

'Never knew I was pregnant again until I was miscarrying all over the workshop floor. Pepper heard me screaming, called the ambulance, held my hand, made sure I didn't drink myself to death, told me that's what friends do. She was the first person besides Rhodey that ever bothered to try with me'

Toni smiled, but it was watery. Clint eyes looked damp too, and she seemed to be resisting the urge to hug her, if the way she was flexing her fingers were any indication. Toni was glad for the restraint, because now she had to tell Clint about the third time, and that was the worst.

'The third time was completely consensual, and fantastic sex. I took extra vitamins, no alcohol, attended all my appointments on time. I carried to term, it was a home birth, tribute to my mother if there ever was one. Hurt like a bitch, you have that to look forward to. I broke two of Rhodey's fingers and Pepper couldn't keep a good grip on anything for weeks, I bruised her hand that bad.'

Toni stood abruptly and crossed the workshop to rifle in one of the drawers. It was where she had left it the day she'd moved in, right by the glass case containing the first miniature arc reactor. She tossed it at Clint, who caught it with the skill that comes from being a fully trained martial artist and sniper.

'Those are the only pictures I have of him. He only lived for two days, a congenital heart defect or some bullshit that they didn't manage to detect until he was gone.'

Clint opened what she now realised was a small, leather-bound photo album. In it were several glossy pictures, Toni looking only a few years younger and happier than Clint had ever seen her. There were a couple with her baby bump on display, a man Clint recognised as James Rhodes pressing his ear against it, both wearing matching grins. Another with Toni looking dishevelled and pained, gripping her two best friend's hands and grimacing at the camera, a worried Dummy trying to shove a smoothie at her in the foreground. The photo that caught Clint's eye was the one of an exhausted looking Toni cradling a small pink bundle, swaddled in yellow blankets, curls matted to her forehead, face flushed but a quiet happy smile on her face as she held her new-born son to her chest. Clint wasn't sure she could bear to look at any more, but did so anyway. Toni was spilling her guts here, the least she could do was honour her dead son's memory by looking at the only reminders that he ever existed.

'Best two days of my life' Toni confessed quietly. She was peering at the pictures over Clint's shoulder, a soft expression Clint had never seen before on her face.

'It hurt like hell when I lost him. I never regretted it though. I wish I could take back my abortion, my miscarriage, my dead baby but . . .' Toni shrugs. 'That's the thing about the past. You can't take it back'

'I meant what I said up there Clint, I'm not going to force you to do anything you might regret. But-'

'I miss Phil' Clint doesn't mean to interrupt but suddenly it's all she can think about, how much she wishes that he was here, that he was here to comfort her, advise her, hell, to hold her hand. She misses him so much it's a physical ache. Toni places a hand on Clint's shoulder, steady and honest.

'Me too'

Clint sniffs, wipes her nose on her trailing sleeve. 'I'm keeping my baby'

Toni grins, pulls her into a one-armed, carefree hug and plants a kiss on the crown of her head.

'Atta girl. I'll get more tea, bitch slap the team into line and get an appointment set up for you, you've got to be exhausted, and I remember my first trimester. Take a kip in here if you like, no one should disturb you and trust me, after I'm done with them they won't be in a hurry to invade _my_ territory. Except maybe Bruce, but Bruce is so Zen he makes yoga seem like an extreme sport.'

Clint smiles as Toni is back to her usual animated self, chattering as she whips out her cell phone from which she rules the western world and half of what remains, rearranging her calendar, making appointments, rearranging her schedules and most likely bookmarking some new smoothie recipes.

Clint hates to interrupt her but. . .

'Hey, Toni?'

Clint hates to interrupt her, has always enjoyed her cheerful prattling, and thinks she does it on purpose sometimes to put people at ease but. . .

'Hey, Toni?'

'Yes Tweetie Pie?'

'I've got six months until, this baby is out of me. Do you think you can go that long without doing something stupidly reckless? Because now that Phil is gone, you're kind of my go-to gal here. I love Natasha, but she is scared to death of kids, Steve will treat me like fucking glass and Thor I might actually have to kill in order to shut him up. I'm kind of relying on you here'

Toni's face lights up.

'Challenge accepted. Dude, I am going to be the best fairy godmother ever!'


End file.
